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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23177077">home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ'>SerpentineJ</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Money Game (Korea TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:16:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23177077</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>i don’t wanna feel the way that I do<br/>trying to erase you<br/>but you spill out in my room<br/>why do I color myself with you every day?<br/>standing in the past<br/>we’re still wandering<br/>i hope the way back is you<br/>whatever never ever</p><p>the end of a day without you<br/>becomes longing, it’s so clear</p><p>your warmth that I forgot about<br/>why is it still there?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Heo Jae/Chae Yihyun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>NOTE: im . hurting ..</p><p>emo ass summary from / written to yezi’s home .. absolute bop that has all these heochae vibes T-T listen to it !</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Against all odds, Yihyun misses Heo Jae.</p><p>“It’s only a two-month rotation,” he says, laughing, as Mr. Park pats him on the back again, looking like he might tear up. “I’ll be back in the country before you know it. You didn’t have to come to see me off.”</p><p>Beside him, Hyejoon is watching him. When Yihyun’s gaze flicks over to her, she smiles at him. </p><p>“Fly safely,” she says.</p><p>“I will.” He replies, shifting his duffel bag on his shoulder. “As much as I can, anyways.”</p><p>The sense that he’s leaving something behind in Korea is even more overwhelming than it should be. His juniors are here to see him off, but his thoughts are distracted, even with the ever-present hustle and bustle of the busy airport. They keep trailing back to a solitary cell in the Sejong prison.</p><p>Before he can think about it, Yihyun finds himself wishing Heo Jae were here.</p><p>It’s a ridiculous thing to think. He doesn’t have to see the man for the rest of his life if he doesn’t want to. Even if he did visit, Heo Jae could refuse to see him. Doubtless he already knows that Yihyun is on his way out of the country. </p><p>“I’m going,” he says, in the real world, wrapping his hands fondly around his juniors’ shoulders. “Watch over the country while I’m gone.”</p><p>“Don’t have too much fun in Europe,” Mr. Park says, still addressing him as his senior.</p><p>“Come back safely.” Hyejoon says, a rare smile lighted on her lips.</p><p>Later, on the plane, he gets a text message.</p><p>
  <i>Hyejoon: If things are hard, please call me.</i>
</p><p>It’s just like her. He smiles quietly at his phone.</p><p>--</p><p>Heo Jae sees a plane fly overhead through the bars of his window.</p><p>He fingers one page of the book that’s laid open and forgotten in his lap. Karl Polanyi’s words spill out of the paper. Even though an entire shelf in his solitary cell is stacked with economic texts of all types, old and new, their bright and faded spines the only splash of color in his unrelentingly beige surroundings, The Great Transformation is undoubtedly the most worn title in the collection.</p><p>Between waking and sleeping, his thoughts drift. </p><p>There’s nothing else to consume him in prison. He’s free to think at his own pace. The first few days, he had sat in silence, rage and regret swirling through him, a tempest destroying him from the inside, but he’s slowly mellowed, tempered by the oppressive monotony of prison life.</p><p>He misses Yihyun – but he had already known that.</p><p>The thing that haunts him the most isn’t Yihyun’s disappointment, or his anger, or his gaze as Heo Jae had been led away by the police. It’s Yihyun’s tearful face, the first and only time he had come to meet him at the penitentary. Yihyun’s heartbroken expression. Mourning his father, and their shared dream, and the man he had thought Heo Jae was.</p><p>It follows him throughout the days. He had dismissed Yihyun out of hurting. He wants to see him – he doesn’t want to see him – he wants Yihyun to accept him as he is – he knows Yihyun cannot. He slowly grows accustomed to tear of his heart in two opposite directions. </p><p>Yihyun probably will not come back. Heo Jae knows he’s headed to Europe now, and even when he returns to the country, he will not want to see the man who is the most at fault for destroying him.</p><p>--</p><p>The time different affects him more than he had expected. </p><p>The bank’s temporary employee housing isn’t bad. Yihyun sets up in the small apartment quickly, hanging his suits in the closet and setting his laptop on the desk. Even after a few weeks, he still finds himself waking up early in the morning or staying up late into the night, the indigo sky blurring with the faded outlines of charming stone buildings, speckled with golden pinpricks of light. The sound of the occasional conversation drifts up from the cobbled streets below his window.</p><p>He’s homesick. His English is getting better, but he relaxes imperceptibly when he listens to the Korean news, familiar syllables washing over his ears like waves.</p><p>There’s no reason for him to think about Heo Jae in these moments, but he does.</p><p>Maybe it’s the quiet feeling of missing something, exacerbated by being in a foreign country with no one familiar at his side. His feelings for Heo Jae are bunched up in his chest, a tangled knot of hatred and familiarity and, overwhelmingly, a sense of longing – he’s tried to move on but he can’t. Even in the moments when he’s happy, and surrounded by people who care about him, his thoughts of Heo Jae are always there. They swirl like a slow undercurrent to his every mood. </p><p>He misses him. He misses working with him, and fighting with him, and the strange, fond way that Heo Jae would smile when Yihyun would be himself around him. If nothing else, Heo Jae had understood him. His absence feels like a hole in the night sky where the full moon should be.</p><p>On this night in particular, Yihyun can’t focus on the restructuring plan for his special assignment. The words swim on the page, their meanings slipping past him like silt in a stream – the sky outside is so dark it’s purple. A pale sliver of a waning moon shines weakly through his balcony door. The low glow of his computer screen is the only other light in the room, shading the creases in his face with its white dimness, sweeping grainily over the furrow between his brows like thin paint.</p><p>“I miss you,” he says, out loud to himself, as if testing the words in his mouth. They fall through the air and crash into his chest like a weight, reverberating through his lungs like a plucked cello string, stealing the breath from his body. His heartbeat sounds through his ears as if he’s listening to it underwater.</p><p>He didn’t know it would hurt so much to say.</p><p>--</p><p>A cell phone is a rare item in a prison. To many, it would be their most prized possession. The boy who brings the food – Heo Jae recognizes him from the courtyard at shared exercise time, a man who can’t be older than Hyejoon, who seems too young to have his adult life start in prison – silently pushes it through the slot in the door along with his lunch.</p><p>Heo Jae looks at it.</p><p>“I didn’t request this.” He says, voice quiet.</p><p>“The warden asked me to give it to you.” The boy replies, as though it doesn’t matter at all to him. He leaves, and Heo Jae is left with a crushing feeling of opportunity – the relaxation of having no control over his environment is gone. He takes the phone in his hands and feels the familiar terror of decision-making flush through him again, yanking him back to the real world, obliterating the fog of defeatism that has been pervading him.</p><p>He’s memorized Yihyun’s phone number. That’s the first thing that comes to mind. He’s not even safe from his constant temptation in prison. As before, the apple tempts Adam away from the Garden and into original sin.</p><p>It’s an old flip phone – the kind that drug dealers or gang members on the outside will use as burner phones, with a prepaid card and no internet capability whatsoever. Heo Jae is grateful for that, at least. The cheap plastic feels heavier than it is in his hand. <br/>The noon sun streams through his cell window. It’s so bright it makes the room feel like a dream, the light bouncing every which way, making the walls glow and the air warmer than it should be in March. It catches on Heo Jae’s black hair and the slight slouch in his shoulders.</p><p>He puts the phone in the cubby farthest from him. </p><p>--</p><p>Yihyun doesn’t know why he’s sitting here.</p><p>His hazard lights are on. Next to him, in the fast lane, the cars are still whizzing by, each of their lights bright in the darkness, casting his features into neon shadow – he leans back, pressing his fingers against the steering wheel, and exhales so roughly it comes out with a wounded noise.</p><p>Heo Jae’s apartment building looms above him.</p><p>Pulling his car into drive again, he slots it into streetside parking in a small back alley, near the glittering glass lobby of the building, elegant and impersonal. He walks in like he’s underwater. The vision doesn’t look real in front of him – he remembers the last time he had come here, confusion and alcohol twisting through his veins, his emotions filling him to bursting.</p><p>He doesn’t feel any more steady now. He sways on his feet. The elevator is as quiet as always.</p><p>An hour earlier:</p><p>
  <i>Yihyun: Ms. Lee, can I ask you for a favor?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Hyejoon: A favor?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yihyun: You fetched the USB drive with the evidence of Jungin Bank’s BIS ratio manipulation from DPM Heo’s apartment, right?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Hyejoon: Yes, but why do you ask?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yihyun: Can you give me his unit’s password?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Hyejoon: ... Director Chae, is everything alright?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yihyun: I just want to know.</i>
</p><p>It’s only been a day since he’d returned to the country. He can’t sleep even when the sun goes down and the stars wink in the inky sky, far apart but appearing close together. The taste in his mouth had been bittersweet as the plane had roared into its landing on the airstrip, the sky too technicolor blue to be real, making Yihyun’s stomach flip.</p><p>Heo Jae’s apartment looks exactly the same as he had left it. Since the prosecution had already had concrete evidence, and Heo Jae hadn’t made any effort to clear his name of the voluntary manslaughter charge, there had been no need to search the premises. Heo Jae had hired an asset manager from holding, and the manager has diligently kept up the property tax and utility payments on the unit, a slow trickle from Heo Jae’s considerable savings.</p><p>The managers of Heo Jae’s estate had reached out to Yihyun, offering to financially compensate for his losses. Yihyun had refused.</p><p>It’s not like he needs more money, anyways. The thing he’s wanted from Heo Jae has always been...</p><p>The door closes behind him with a quiet beeping. He turns the lights on, fingers dragging through the air with hesitation, as though it’s fit to choke him – like he’s swimming, he takes off his shoes and steps into the flat, the golden lamps flickering on to greet him.</p><p>The fridge is empty. There’s a few containers of non-perishables in the cabinets – some fish canned in oil, a pack of instant ramen – and nothing else. Heo Jae’s apartment smells empty, like dust and cold furnishings, but familiar at the same time.</p><p>Yihyun takes a seat on the couch. He lets his fingers linger on the table where they had drank together. The warm wooden slats speak of intimacy and privacy. The couch is comfortable under him – he leans back, sinking into the cushions, as the sense of longing overtakes him, clear water flooding his chest, bubbling out from his skin like a vital spring.</p><p>He misses. He wants. He hates – Heo Jae’s presence is gone from the room and barely there at the same time, the lingering breath of a ghost, whispering around Yihyun’s shoulders like the feelings he can’t let go of. </p><p>He feels comfortable in the apartment. He stands up. Heo Jae’s office is like he would have imagined, one wall lined with books and trinkets and warm statement lighting. This room has been touched by outsiders. There are a few files scattered atop the desk – non-essential and non-confidential – but most of the things pertaining to Heo Jae’s work have been seized by the government or the prosecution. Nothing but his collection of books and his personal writings about his economic opinions remain.</p><p>There’s a manila post-it note on the desk. Yihyun picks it up, the sticky glue reluctant to release its grip on the surface but peeling off when he takes it. Scrawled out in familiar handwriting is Yihyun’s own name, along with a few words that he recognizes – things the DPM had instructed him to do, or solicited his opinion on. </p><p>Yihyun fights the urge to crumple the note in his hand. Instead, he slips it carefully into his pocket. </p><p>He hesitates before he opens the door to Heo Jae’s bedroom.</p><p>Heo Jae’s room is almost bare. The only furniture in the room is the bed and a small nightstand with a lamp – it matches the decor of the rest of his apartment, with a beige lampshade and wooden accents.</p><p>Outside the floor-to-ceiling window on the far side of the room, mostly concealed by thick, sweeping curtains, the glow of city lights in the nighttime is visible. From here, looking down on the rest of the world, the feeling that Yihyun gets is overwhelmingly of solitude.</p><p>Yihyun turns on the light. The bedside lamp comes to life. The bed is immaculately made, plush cream bedding that mix of understated elegance and comfort that Heo Jae seems to prefer in his home. Yihyun steps slowly into the room. The sliding door that holds back Heo Jae’s closet has accents of dark wood around the handle and the sides – it makes a quiet noise when he slides it open. Heo Jae’s clothes are mostly blacks and browns. Yihyun recognizes a few suits in particular. One tie seems more familiar than the others. It’s striped white and navy – Heo Jae’s expression flashes before him, wearing the DPM’s three-pieces instead of a prison uniform – it almost becomes too much. He quickly slides the door shut again.</p><p>He sits down on Heo Jae’s bed. The mattress yields comfortably under him. He lets his head fall back, and his body topple backwards, like he had laid himself to the ground at the temple in front of his father’s memorial. The ceiling he gazes at is probably the one Heo Jae had looked at countless times before, with thoughts of the economy and his failings and Yihyun running through his head.</p><p>The blanket is high quality – it quickly grows warm under his back.</p><p>Yihyun falls asleep.</p><p>--</p><p>“Visitation,” the corrections guard says, knocking on Heo Jae’s door.</p><p>He looks up from his book.</p><p>The guard brings him to the private visitation room. Heo Jae stops before he walks in – Yihyun is the last person he’s expected to see. His heart jerks in his chest, as though it wants to physically pull him forward, towards the person he wants to see more than anyone else.</p><p>“I didn’t expect to see you again.” Heo Jae says, hating how guarded and desperate his voice sounds as he takes a seat. For him, Yihyun and self-preservation are two opposite directions. Thirty years of solitary struggles have biased him towards self-preservation in almost every case, but none of that means anything when it’s Yihyun.</p><p>“I didn’t know if I would come again.” Yihyun says. He has an odd look on his face.</p><p>The room is dingy and dark – the only light comes from the slat of a window far above Yihyun’s head. The sun streams into the side of the room, lighting on the wall. The refracted blues and greens and golds bounce from the stone to the underside of Yihyun’s jaw, illuminating his dear, dear face.</p><p>Even when Yihyun is sitting in front of him, Heo Jae misses him. </p><p>“How was Europe?” He says, instead of anything else, folding his hands in his lap. </p><p>“Nice enough.” Yihyun replies, not showing any signs of surprise that Heo Jae has been keeping up with what he’s been doing. “I’m glad to be back in Korea, though.”</p><p>Heo Jae’s words stick in his throat.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he says. His worthless pride is digging its claws into his chest. He can’t say the things he wants to the most, and he knows it’s out of cowardice instead of self-sacrifice. “For sending you away last time.”</p><p>Please don’t leave again. He feels pathetic. The worst thing is that Heo Jae is the one who had hurt Yihyun – this situation is entirely of his own making.</p><p>Yihyun looks at him with that complex expression. His eyebrows furrow – his jaw twitches and his lips part, just barely, like they do when he doesn’t know what to do with Heo Jae. Heo Jae knows it’s selfish, and he doesn’t care. He’s never been a considerate kind of person. </p><p>“I went to your apartment.” Yihyun says. “Is there anything you need from there?”</p><p>Heo Jae’s breath comes out of him in a gust. His chest is aching. Yihyun’s careful consideration hurts even more than the way he had criticized him last time, even more than if he said hated him, because he knows it’s what he deserves but he doesn’t want Yihyun to abandon him. It’s the kind of pain he can’t let go of. He would discard his dreams for the economy in an instant if it would keep Yihyun near him. </p><p>Ultimately, he’s weak. He’s not strong enough for anything. He couldn’t change anything, and he still wants to live – his ideals waver in the face of his desire – he loves desperately and hates himself for it.</p><p>“Not particularly.” He says. “Why are you doing this?”</p><p>It’s like a miracle – like a sunbeam breaking through an impenetrable blanket of fog – the corner of Yihyun’s mouth ticks, even though he looks sad at the same time and his brow is still creased. Heo Jae’s breathing stops. Yihyun is smiling at him.</p><p>“I missed you.” Yihyun says, a rough edge to his voice, looking like he can’t believe himself. He’s never been good at hiding his emotions once he’s certain of them. “I hated you, but I missed you.”</p><p>“You shouldn’t,” Heo Jae says, choked.</p><p>“But I do.” Yihyun says. His eyes move around the room, avoiding Heo Jae before they come back to him, dark and just as helpless as Heo Jae feels, even though Heo Jae is the evil one in prison for his crimes. “I didn’t have a good relationship with... my father, and I hated him... but I missed him when he was gone.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Heo Jae says, unable to stop the words from tumbling from his lips.</p><p>“And this time, it’s you,” Yihyun continues, desperation lending an edge to his voice – Heo Jae wants to stop him, and wants to know what Yihyun is feeling at the same time. “And I can’t talk to my father anymore, even though I have so many regrets, but you’re still alive, Heo Jae.”</p><p>It’s the first time Heo Jae has heard Yihyun use his name. </p><p>A thousand things balance on the tip of his tongue. I missed you too. Please don’t hate me. Please understand me. I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can live without you. Heo Jae has always been selfish.</p><p>“I missed you too,” he says. It feels like telling the truth for the first time in a while.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>NOTE: ..part of my vibe for the last scene came from.. watcher chigoon where younggoon was fighting w chigwang in taejoos office.. and he almost beamed him w that big glass nameplate until chigwang told him the truth and he was like (paraphrased) “everyone told me to doubt my dad so i did! but now everyone is telling me to doubt you..! and im afraid of making that mistake again! so im going to make my own decisions about who to trust!” . that scene. i hate the heochae/chigoon parallels but theyre There..</p><p>me: watcher/money game crossover fic ........ theyre both about corruption .. its perfect</p></blockquote></div></div>
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